


Sanctuary

by Celestriakle



Category: NiGHTS into Dreams, ナイツ 〜星降る夜の物語〜 | NiGHTS: Journey of Dreams (Video Game)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Abandonment, Creation Myth, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Human Experimentation, Nightmares, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2019-12-27 00:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18293294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celestriakle/pseuds/Celestriakle
Summary: A slightly different take on the cause of NiGHTS's rebellion. [Abandoned]





	1. Creation

_In the beginning, there was only light._

_Brilliant, dazzling lights: Green, blue, yellow, white, and red. Soft and strong, gentle and hard, each one different from the other, but all essentially good._

Good. What a strange concept.

_Nightopians bathed in the light, laughing and playing with the eternal stream of Visitors who brought bliss into their world. Their hearts were whole, and they basked in the perfection of their Paradise._

_One day, something they had never seen before appeared. At first, they thought he was a Visitor, but something about him confounded them: He had no lights. In fact, he seemed to be sucking in the lights around him._

_For the first time, the Nightopians knew darkness. For the first time, they knew fear._

Many years passed since that day. From humble origins, the land of Nightmare grew, and now those who heard even a whisper of the name or its creator trembled at the sound. Wizeman's formidable army of Nightmarens slowly pushed at the frontiers of his land, ever expanding, but they were wild, uncontrolled, a force of pure chaos. Exactly how he designed them. However, the time had come for that to end. At last, his powers were great enough to create a leader for his army. At last, his experiments were done.

Something was moving on the floor of Wizeman's cosmic chambers. One hand floated over to examine the crumpled figure that struggled to rise to its knees. The Experiment. With a note of disdain, the purple eye scanned the black body as it collapsed back down to the floor, panting heavily. Every inch of the creature's skin seemed to be malformed by scar tissue of one kind or another: Large, knotted ropes bulged from some areas, and others dipped where flesh, once ripped away, never grew back, leaving only shallow holes to mark their place. Shakily, delirious, the creature grinned up at its master, and Wizeman did not doubt that any human would cringe to look upon it; although, perhaps, its design could be improved... With a swift flick, the hand turned and glided two fingers about a foot above the creature's body, casting their black magic as they passed. Yes, that would do just as nicely, if not better.

For the part of the Experiment, it stiffened and whimpered, knowing all too well the unpleasant sensation of magic at work within it, but the pain it grew to expect never came. Nervous, one blue eye opened, then the other. It watched the hand of its master float away; was that all? Uncertain, it turned over and, looking down at itself, saw... nothing. Unbelieving, the creature touched the body it could only feel, then examined its invisible hand... and started to laugh.

A quick smack that sent the Experiment flying into the wall silenced that annoyance. Wizeman needed complete concentration. He could not afford any distractions from the Experiment now. All six of his hands rose up into formation, and their eyes closed. His mind calmed, thoughts sharpening to a scalpel's point, and he drew upon the power of the Ideya to breathe life into the creature his hands molded.

More than anything, more than even death, humans fear their own capabilities. They fear their very Self, and from this most innate, primal instinct, Wizeman derived the essence of his Perfect Nightmare. Unlike many of its kin, it appeared not as a monster, but humanoid in nature: Its body structure remained, essentially, much the same as a human's, but its proportions became skewed; certain body parts it acquired, and others disappeared. Completely gender neutral, it showed no inclination to behave as either might, and its intellect, its emotions, did not bend to the same primordial limitations of most nightmarens. A perfect marriage of the white of death and black of decay, its powers far exceeded that of even his strongest nightmaren, and he watched with pride as the seed of life took to it, causing it to to grow in power and slowly claw its way into the abyss Wizeman cradled.

As he watched, Wizeman became aware of a struggle. The Nightmare fought to balance the conflicting forces within it, and—filled with horror and fury—Wizeman saw it losing. Swiftly, his eyes closed in around the creature and took on a reddish hue as he examined the fragile form emerging from the darkness. There: A crack, like the delicate shatter of glass, disturbed the smokey darkness of the creature's shoulder. If he failed to act, then it would be destroyed: All of the effort and energy he put into it would be thrown back at him twofold. His hands trembled, then clenched, and with a roar of frustration, he rent his Perfect Nightmare in two.

Wizeman was exhausted, but at least he could be certain of the knowledge that his two Imperfect Nightmares survived, intact. Passively, a hand passed over each, examining their unconscious forms. To his pleasure, they both carried the same body type he intended, mostly, but that was where the similarities ended. Although both remained technically gender-neutral, the Nightmare in his left seemed to bear a slightly more effeminate body than the one in his right. This one was clad in mostly purple, with peachy skin and long eyelashes. Her horns seemed slightly smaller than that of her more masculine brother, and a shining red gem glittered in her chest. Her pale brother wore far less than she, limited to a golden pair of gauntlets, black and red boots, and a mere vest. Three diamonds—blue, purple, and red, respectively—ran down his chest. Both appeared more youthful than he intended—Perhaps they had split their original years? In either case, he estimated that it would take about a decade for them to reach full maturity. Sighing, he lamented the cost of imperfection until they, simultaneously, opened their bright blue eyes.

They rose slowly, shakily, stretching and experimenting with their new bodies. Their eyes saw for the first time, and like a pair of sponges, they soaked in all that surrounded them until, one after the other, their eyes came to rest on the main form of Wizeman. They failed to notice the floating pair of eyes that grinned at them from the back of the room. "Who... am I?" asked the brother, thickly, struggling to form his first words.

"W-who are you..?" asked the sister, her voice already higher than his and hushed in awe.

"I am Wizeman," his voice boomed, and he slipped easily into the speech he had repeated so many times already. "I am the one that created you; you are to serve me unquestionably. I am the God of Nightmare, the land we live in, and King of Nightmarens, you and all of your kin. Never address me by any title other than Master or Master Wizeman. You—" He gestured to the brother. "—are Reala, and you—" He gestured to the sister. "—are NiGHTS." He paused a moment to let that sink in; they seemed to understand, and with a bit of thoughtfulness, he concluded, "The two of you are my greatest creations, superior in every way to your fellows. When you are ready, you will assist me in commanding this great kingdom. For now, go. Explore the land that will one day be yours."

With a heavy groan, the doors to Wizeman's chamber opened, and the siblings looked back. NiGHTS, who had already discovered her ability to fly and floated experimentally, smiled at her brother before taking off out into the great world beyond. Reala, with a brief, frustrated frown, was quick to follow suite.

With them gone, only one loose end remained, invisible and forgotten by its master. It struggled and breathed, groaning and articulating until, at last, it could form words. Its voice rasped harshly against the air as it spoke, "M.. master...?"

Wizeman's eyes flashed red with irritation at the sudden harsh noise, and he spat the order, "Speak."

"Will... the exssssperiments continue?" it asked, struggling with the polysyllabic word.

"What a foolish question. At last, I have a true first-level Nightmaren. You are no longer necessary." Roughly, a hand grasped it and caught it in a web of dark magic; it knew better than to scream as its vision faded to black.

For the final time, a new soul entered into the Experiment's body, claiming dominance at the protests of all souls past. When it awoke, its past had become a painfully blurry haze, and groggily, it looked up at the sound of its master's voice. No matter how much confusion clogged its senses, there was never any mistaking that. "From this point onward, you will be known as Jackle the Mantle. You are to help your fellow second-level Nightmaren in the takeover of Nightopia," Wizeman commanded and dropped the newly identified Nightmare. "Go."

Jackle had no trouble stopping the fall and coming to a hover just a few feet above the ground. In wonder, he gazed at the soft gloves now cradling his hands. He had clothes. Twirling, his grin grew as his cape fluttered about him. Wonderful clothes. But, more than that... He had a name. A real, true name. For the first time, he had an identity. His body trembled as his grin grew, and in a very small, high-pitched voice, he whispered, "Thank you." Gleeful laughter followed him all the way out of his master's chambers and into the castle beyond.

The doors shut with a dull thud. Wizeman was exhausted. Two first-level Nightmarens, and a new soul to keep the Experiment useful. He sighed, and his eyes, having withdrawn to their initial positions, closed. His work was done, and now, it was time for him to rest.


	2. Youth

The day of creation had long since passed. Although academics and basic training chiefly occupied the new-born first-levels' time, they still found time aplenty to spend together, away from the rest, and indulge in their own devices; however, no matter where they were, one fact remained certain: They were inseparable.

Together, they explored the dark and dreary lands of Nightmare: the deserts of scarlet sand; the shadowy, shifting jungles; the murky waters of the various bodies. Together, they soared through their home's stormy skies, dove around the myriad of floating landmasses that collectively constituted Nightmare, and glided above the mysterious, forbidden Dark Ocean. Together, they learned of their rank and all the power, prestige, and obedience that came with it. Today, however, was different: For the first time, they began to take notice of a new emotion welling up within them.

"...Hey? NiGHTS?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm bored," Reala complained, at last vocalizing the feeling that had been budding inside him during the past week. "Entertain me."

"So am I." NiGHTS sat up from the cold stone floor where they lay beside each other and looked at him, crossing her arms primly. "What if I don't want to entertain you? You can't order me around; no one but Master Wizeman can do that. Maybe you should entertain me."

"No way; I asked first." Riled, though playful, he added, "And I can order you around if I want to: Entertain me, I say. See, an order."

"No, say I~"

Reala grinned up at her. "Then I'm going to have to punish you for insubordination."

Giggling, NiGHTS was already out the door when her voice floated back, "I'd like to see you try!"

"Just watch and I will!" Reala called back, taking off after her. They chased each other through the various halls and rooms of Castle Nightmare, Reala catching NiGHTS, NiGHTS turning and catching Reala, both disturbing more than a few Nightmarens in the process. Eventually, though, the game lost its appeal, and they both slowed to a mere drift. "What now?" inquired Reala.

"Ah... I dunno..." complained NiGHTS, who sighed slightly and looked around. "Hmm..." They both immediately fell into a respectful silence as they passed the chamber doors of their Master, but once they had passed, NiGHTS's eyes glimmered. "I have an idea."

Less than five minutes later, a scream from Puffy's room shook the castle walls.

Inside, the two young first-levels bounced upon the balloon maren, hooting and howling in unison.

"Wake up, Puff!"

"Yeah, Puff, wake up!

"C'mon!"

"Take us to Nightopia!"

"Yeah, Nightopia!"

"You little _brats_!" screeched Puffy, her awful voice cracking further, and tossed the two from her person. "When I get my hands on you—" Her threat, cut off by the hand of a bored looking Reala over her mouth, died in the air.

"You can't do anything to us," he informed.

"Yeah," said NiGHTS, grinning wide. "We're first-levels! We outrank you~ Master would have your head!"

To the infinite amusement of the twins, Puffy's face contorted and grew scarlet with rage and frustration, and as their laughter subsided, Reala, still grinning, carefully peeled his hand away from her face. "So, are you going to take us to Nightopia or not?"

Shortly, the pair emerged into a paradise, accompanied by their rotund pink guardian. Only further pain would accompany her refusal; without a single shred of pleasure, she had caved into their demands. For now, she looked condescendingly down upon them, her fat lips pulled down in a frown and her arms crossed as best as they were able as the pair whined and complained in the light. Huddling in each other's shadow, they held a hand over their squinted eyes as they tried to look around. "The sky's so bright in this place..." murmured NiGHTS.

"Colors too," added Reala, wincing at the sight of a spectrum spout of water shooting into the air. Slowly, though, their eyes adjusted, and they stood proper to take in the sights.

Judging by the simplicity and relatively small size of the Nightopia, the Visitor must have been rather young: Giant leaves floated on an iridescent lake beneath a brilliant blue sky, and on occasion, a rainbow pillar of water shot up into the sky, glimmering, then falling. The three Nightmarens stood on the too-bright emerald grass that edged the dreamworld. Cautiously, NiGHTS and Reala took one step forward, then another. "What a weird..." Reala began to murmur, but stopped dead as he spotted a straggling, whimpering Nightopian struggling to flee from the Nightmares. "NiGHTS! Check this out!" he cried and bolted towards the poor pian; it didn't stand a chance. Once Reala's hands were upon it, it immediately began to wail loudly as the two young Nightmares inspected the squishy creature, poking and pulling at its limbs.

"...We should eat it," NiGHTS stated with all seriousness, then looked up. "Puffyyyyy? Can we eat these things?"

The rabbit, who had been settling down in a comfortable spot in the sun, looked up, blinked, and flashed her fangs in a wicked smile that condemned the pian in a moment. "The Nightopians? Oh, only sometimes, bring it here for me to inspect." Exchanging a skeptical look, the twins deferred to the older Nightmaren's wishes and brought the pian—only for the lower maren to devour it in a moment, followed by a chortling bout of laughter at the shock on the twins' faces. Quickly, the two became enraged, and their faces coloured.

"Puffy!" they cried, and jumped back into the air to take their revenge, when a small, shaking voice stopped everything.

"H... Hello...?" asked a small, freckled red-haired child, a girl, who peered out from behind a leaf in the water. She couldn't have been a day over six years old.

"Is that...?" NiGHTS asked in hushed wonder.

"A Visitor," answered Reala with absolute certainty. As they gazed at the girl, they began to perceive something else about her person: A small, glowing white light.

"And she has an Ideya," added Puffy, who hopped a few paces nearer. "Watch as I put your lessons into practice, children." Clearing her throat, she placed a hand on her chest, and began to sing.

To the Nightmares, her song was beautiful, a wonderful cascade of perfectly struck notes. Her voice rose and fell, and the twins were entranced. They scarcely noticed the reddening sky and shadows that stretched and grew and feasted upon the sweet Nightopia.

To the Visitor, her song was terror given a voice, guttural croons and screeches from every angle, mixed with the horrible crunches and howls of nearing beasts. Unlike the twins, she noticed with growing horror the transformation her Nightopia underwent, and once the transportation to Nightmare was complete, her fate was sealed. Puffy was upon her, and in a moment, the child's screams were silenced.

The twins gazed curiously at the glowing white orb Puffy now possessed. "That," she gloated, "is how you steal a Visitor's Ideya. Now, leave me be; I must turn this in." She began to hop away, and the twins exchanged a glance with full intent to follow her, when they felt a slight tugging at the back of their minds, a call that could not be ignored. Their Master desired their audience.

Obediently, the pair bowed before their Master. "Rise," commanded Wizeman, and the pair obeyed. Silently, they waited for their Master to speak, watching as his many eyes floated about them. At length, he did. "I have been watching your progress, NiGHTS, Reala... Today, you saw an Ideya stolen firsthand... Tomorrow, your training intensifies... Additionally, you will take on the workload of your lesser brethren, in preparation for your eventual leadership. You are dismissed."

"Yes, Master Wizeman," they chorused, then bowed and left, eager for the promise of leadership to come.


	3. Adolescence

NiGHTS and Reala spent years, all day and night, with their respective trainers, creatures created for the sole purpose of instructing the youths. If the pair wasn't sharpening their fighting skills, then they were working on their flight skills; if not flight, then pure academics; if not academics, then strategy; if not strategy, then they were out hunting with the other Nightmarens. Any playtime the two once had was lost to them now; as a matter of fact, they barely saw each other anymore. Their time together became precious.

Wizeman watched. His Imperfect Nightmares were faring better than expected: They held up to separation well and advanced quickly in their studies, but he was already beginning to notice a disparity between them... Truly, he witnessed just how very much they were two halves of a single whole: Where Reala excelled in strength and lacked in agility, NiGHTS excelled in agility and lacked in strength; where, to his surprise, Reala excelled in academics, the learning and manipulation of the mind, and lacked in actual wartime strategy, NiGHTS's abilities were inverted. He found Reala more prone to rash, impulsive behavior and NiGHTS to taking no action at all. The whole scenario frustrated him immensely: If only his Perfect Nightmare had come to fruition! He would have had all their proficiencies without any of their failures! He needed to try again. He needed more power, more Ideya. Next time, he would not fail. His demands doubled that day.

 _Seven... Eight... Nine..._ NiGHTS sighed as she ticked off the weeks on her fingers. It had been over two months since she had last seen anything more than a passing glance of her twin, the longest they had ever been apart. Of course she could handle it; she would never let those pangs in her heart interfere with her work, but... It was lonely. When on simple, mindless errands like this, she found a rare gem of time where she was free to think, and that was when she missed him most. _"Maybe we'll both get injured and we can spend time in the infirmary together,"_ she thought dryly, rolling her eyes—and froze. Up ahead, in the intersection of halls—A rush of red and black caught in her peripherals, as her eyes had rolled? "Reala?" She raced to the intersection and cast her gaze about wildly, but... Nothing. There was no one there. Sighing softly, she continued on her way, off to finish her task. She could have sworn...

Two weeks later, it happened again. She hadn't even been thinking about Reala that time; her mind was far too busy trying to work out some wartime scenario her trainer had challenged her with. Once she caught sight of the blur, however, all was forgotten: She gave immediate chase. "Reala!" This time, her reflexes paid off: She caught sight of a red and black boot disappearing about another corner. Now, she was sure. It was him! She cried out joyously, chasing again, but as she rounded the corner and looked around, she saw not a soul in sight. Curse the twisting halls of Castle Nightmare! But, with a small huff, she knew she could not blame the castle alone for keeping her brother from her. An idea had slowly begun to fester deep in the pit of her belly, and she didn't like it one bit.

Nearly two months more passed without incident. Today, she sat in the library, trying to study a book splayed in front of her, but her mind was far away. Increasingly, she found focus harder and harder to come by; her thoughts kept returning to the whereabouts of her brother and that nasty, persistent idea that twisted in her belly. When she heard the crash and cheers of a fight breaking out in the halls outside, she was on her feet in a moment and racing towards the ruckus. _"Thank Wizeman: A distraction!"_

Several hours later, with a small sigh, NiGHTS pushed open the library door, cheeks still burning from the chewing-out her trainer had given her for forgetting her book. "Still can't believe..." she grumbled to herself as she cast her gaze about the library; she passed over him at first, but her focus quickly shot back and locked onto the red and black 'maren where he lounged, balancing on the back two legs of his chair, flipping through one of the many books that surrounded him. All the discipline she had thus so far acquired evaporated in a moment, and she squealed with joy, leaping forward and very nearly tackling him out of his chair in a hug. "Reala!"

Reala cried out in surprise, and blood rushed to his cheeks at being caught so off-guard like that, the first two legs of his chair thumping back down onto the ground. "NiGHTS? What are you doing here? You're supposed to be done in the library for the day!" Did he sound... angry? She looked up at him wondrously and blinked, but his face, though oddly red, was serious, even annoyed. He honestly expected an answer. The idea in her belly suddenly solidified into a cold stone, chilling her through and through. She didn't want to believe it, but given how he acted now, what other answer could there be? He had been _avoiding_ her. "Um, well... I forgot a book," she mumbled, withdrawing from him and clasping her hands in front of her, and stood straight, then, after a moment's pause, demanded with sudden irritation, "Reala, have you been avoiding me?" She had to know.

"Yes," he answered curtly, and she winced.

"Why?"

"I have no need for distractions like you anymore." As if that was explanation enough, he turned from her, returning attention to his book, and now it was her turn to colour.

"Is that all I am to you? A distraction?" Anger welled up in her chest. All the time and energy she had lavished on missing him, on wondering! All wasted! He, fortunately, picked up on this, at least slightly, and turned again to look at her. He would grant her that respect, at least.

"Look, NiGHTS, the adventures we had when we were small were fun, but we're older now. I don't have time to play such frivolous games with you anymore." He waved her off, which did absolutely nothing to soothe her emotional storm.

"That's not the _point_ , Reala!" she shouted, stomping her foot on the ground and startling the few other 'marens in the library. "I don't care about having more adventures; I just want to—to be able to talk to you! To be friends!" She half-reached for him and the air, simultaneously desiring to tear him to shreds and hold him close. He, however, took little notice of her hysterics, merely sighing wearily.

"I know that's not _your_ point, NiGHTS, but you're missing mine." Looking her dead in the eye, he articulated each word. "I have no interest in being friends with you anymore. Friends are a distraction; they get in the way of my goal." He smirked. "And I can't afford a single loss if I want to be _the_ very best."

NiGHTS's mouth dropped open. Just like that. Just out of nowhere. He had thrown her—his precious twin, the once-special relationship they shared—away, like bare bone after a meal. Like they never even mattered. She felt tears prick her eyes as her jaw clenched shut, and her emotions exploded outward, manifesting in an abrupt swipe of her claws across his face. He cried out—but she was already gone, out the door and down the hall, shameful tears streaming down her face, book forgotten once more. The door to her room slammed shut; her trainer didn't matter. She needed time alone, and wept.

Eventually, inevitably, she recovered. She couldn't stay in her room forever. On the inside, she still felt torn up, angry, and raw, but on the outside, she floated cool and composed, head held high. Though the hurt remained, her sorrow had largely faded, and her temper had cool—no. It had concentrated. She was absolutely furious with him, she realized, as she approached the library door and paused. Could she face him again? She still needed her book. He was probably gone... No. She hadn't the slightest idea of what she would do if she saw him again right now and couldn't bring herself to take the risk, so she floated on. Besides, books and academia were not what she needed at the moment. Nightmaren only ever learned two ways to cope with anything like the pure iron ball of wrath that sat in the midst of NiGHTS's chest: Store it away as spite, or spend it in the form of violence. She opted for the second choice.

Just because her claws weren't quite as long and jagged as Reala's gauntlets didn't mean that they were any less dangerous: Claws and teeth ripped minions to confetti; drill dashes forced them into spheres that created another victim for her wherever they collided; and paraloops sucked away even their screams, but their lives meant nothing. Stupid Reala! How dare he treat her this way, like some kind of filthy peasant he can just use and throw away without a single backwards glance! She was a Prince of Nightmare, same as he! Well, if he could just crumple up their relationship and set it on fire, so could she! If he didn't want to be friends, then neither did she! It would be easy. She would simply stop caring about him.

Easier said than done, NiGHTS quickly learned. Especially early on, she would catch herself thinking or moping about her situation with Reala... and quickly berated herself for it. Occasionally, she allowed herself a single thought—was it this hard for Reala? was this why he had worked so hard to avoid her?—but no more than that. She refused to indulge herself. And, eventually, largely, it worked. The effort became harder, however, when her trainer began to request that she, a weaker fighter than her brother, watch him and take note on how she could improve to match his skill. For those first few times, painful longing bloomed in her heart; she needed to find a way to squash it! The problem of quashing that emotion consumed her thoughts more than any technical ability she could pick up from watching him, until suddenly, an epiphany. What about him? Couldn't he improve? That boy was far from perfect; she knew that. She should see what she can pick up from watching him fight? How about she avoids the mistakes he makes? Yes, that would do. He was so imperfect. Why should she want anything to do with him! She watched with new found determination.

"Come on, Reala; watch your back! That's Basic Training 101!" NiGHTS shouted irritably from the sidelines, then started slightly to see Reala look her way, eyes wide and shocked. She had been watching him for a while now, but never had they exchanged a single word. All her criticisms had been in her head... until now, apparently. She scarcely realized she had spoken aloud. They held surprised gazes for a moment until Reala was struck again, and the spell was broken. He growled and attacked with new fervour, and NiGHTS frowned in disapproval, shouting again, "What did I tell you? Watch your back! You're so careless!" She saw his expression tighten with irritation, and was surprised to find a small tendril of pleasure slink into her heart at the sight. Perhaps this whole spectating thing could be... fun. She smiled and readied herself to point out his next error.

Initially, Reala had been thrilled to have NiGHTS as a spectator. Of course, he would have been happy to have anyone—he loved the attention—but NiGHTS understood his efforts best. He no longer worried about old affections resurfacing—they were buried deep enough—and gladly put on a show for his new found audience. Unfortunately, that audience soon turned against him. Several shows in, she began to criticize him! As if he didn't condemn his mistakes enough as it was. How dare she! Sure, everything she said was true, but she didn't have anyone doing that to her while she practiced!

NiGHTS was not surprised when Reala began coming to her practices and shouting criticisms back at her. In fact, in the beginning, she laughed.


End file.
